


Gentle Hands

by Batshit_Bogs



Category: DCU
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake is Not Okay, best friend (for now wink wink), dashes of fluff, disassociation warning, he's worried about his bf, kon centric, kon is pining hard, someday he will be tho, timmy has been having a very bad year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batshit_Bogs/pseuds/Batshit_Bogs
Summary: Kon floats over him for a moment, drinking in his peaceful features and enjoying the natural stillness. He’d do anything to keep Tim in this soft moment where he can let go of whatever nightmares plague him, in the waking world or in sleep.-Kon takes care of Tim after a difficult battle.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 14
Kudos: 148





	Gentle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'd like to screech a bigass THANK YOU to my wonderful amazing friend, who edited this. Her suggestions and corrections are invaluable, pure gold, this was a hot mess before she blessed it with her wonderful brain -
> 
> Second, DC doesn't respect their own canon so neither will I. This takes place a couple months after Kon & Bart returned from being dead. Tim is Red Robin (weird condom cowl version), and the Core Four are still a team. Would this really be a DC fic if it respected canon? 
> 
> CW - disassociation, mild blood descriptions, teeny injury mentions

Robots fucking suck.

Like, they _really_ fucking suck.

They’re a bitch to punch through, unreasonably strong, and they just don’t. Shut. Up.

_Surrender or die. You are no match for our might. Surrender or die. Yada yada, blah blah._

Boooring. It’s the same script every time, no matter who’s behind the controls - can’t they be programmed with something fresh? Something like, ‘ _C’mon snake, let's rattle_ ,’ or ‘ _Swiggity swooty, I’m coming for that booty._ ’ It would make robot fights infinitely more entertaining.

In short, robots are the worst and Kon could be having a much better day. This stupid giant robot has punted him into the stratosphere at least three times since the battle began, and he’s really starting to feel the ache. It’ll be a miracle if he can even _move_ tomorrow.

The rest of the team isn’t faring much better. While he and Cassie are tackling the big bitch, Tim and Bart are struggling through an entire army of mini-bots and drones. The battle has been waging for the better part of an hour, and they’re no closer to winning. It’s gotten to the point where Tim called for the JL’s assistance, but no one has shown up yet, which is… bizarre—and a bit insulting, actually. Hey, Young Justice is important too, y’know! They’re kinda getting their asses handed to them, over there, some help would be _greatly appreciated_. You’d think getting a distress call from Tim fucking Drake would be enough to get the entire League over here - Tim doesn’t call for help unless he’s in deep shit.

Speaking of whom—Kon glances down into the swarm to check on his non-super-powered friend. He’s just in time, too: he spots a robot sneaking up on Red Robin’s blind spot with a sword held high. That’s another thing - what kind of robots use fucking _swords?_ Totally unrealistic, if you ask Kon, and very impractical.

“Hey, watch it!” Kon cries,arrowing down just in time to kick the robot _very_ far away from his friend.

Tim doesn’t even react to the fact that he almost got his head chopped off, nor to the fact that Kon just saved his sorry neck - literally. He just brushes past to knock down the next bot without a change in pace or expression (from what Kon can see under his unsettling cowl). His heartbeat doesn’t even spike like a normal person’s would when they nearly get killed. It’s been the same steady thrumming throughout the whole battle, if not a little faster due to exertion.

“You’re welcome,” Kon grumbles, and he speeds back into the air to rejoin Cassie. It’s not worrying at all, how blank Tim is. Nope. No, actually, it totally is, and Kon is freaking out a little, but he shoves the worry down with a sucker punch to the giant bot.

Now isn’t the time to get caught up in thoughts about Tim—he has to focus on bringing down this metal motherfucker. Later, he can dive back into the deep pool of worries about how off his best friend has been acting ever since Kon came back, how utterly _different_ he is - Kon shakes his head and narrowly avoids a swipe from the robot. He’s gotta keep his head on straight right now, think about Tim later, focus on the mission now.

A sharp cry from below makes Kon hesitate in his attack—shit, that sounded like Bart!—giving the robot an opening to bring its fist down on him. He gets caught under it, and as it punches him into the earth, it’s all he can do to throw up a weak cushion of TTK around him. All of the breath in Kon’s body leaves him in a _whoosh_ as he’s crushed between metal and rock, the cushion doing jack shit to protect him. Each stone digs into his back as searing pain burns through every muscle, and for a moment Kon wonders if this is how bugs feel when squished. The metal fist lifts, leaving him gasping for air in a crater as the sky spins above him.

_Ow—oh FUCK, that hurt—what the shit, man!—_

The sun blots out above him and—oh, the robot is about to step on him.

THE ROBOT IS ABOUT TO STEP ON HIM. OH SHIT. MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!

But Kon _can’t_ move. He tries to get up, he really does, but neither his limbs or TTK are responding the way they should, and it feels like he’s trying to move against the ocean’s tides, and - _it’s too much like before, he was helpless then and he’s helpless now and it’s too soon he just got back_ \- the metal robot is crashing down on him.

All Kon can do is stare as it crushes him - no, wait, as a red and blue blur slams the robot off kilter, sending it careening back and away from Kon. He hears a joyous whoop somewhere off to his right, but Kon is trying too hard not to pass out to pay attention.

All of the breath in his lungs escapes him yet again as he slumps into the rubble, clutching at his chest, his heart is hammering so hard that he feels it against his ribcage. That was just a tad too close for his liking - he doesn’t have much interest in becoming a kryptonian-flavored pancake anytime soon.

“Kon?” Cassie’s worried face pops into view. Her words are barely audible over the screeching of metal and explosions happening out of sight. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” Kon wheezes. Never mind the fact that the world is still spinning. She offers her hand and he takes it, letting her peel him out of the fist-sized crater. He stumbles a little before finding his balance, and he dusts off his jacket and ruffles debris out of his hair as he re-orients himself. A quick glance down into the crater makes him giggle insanely for a moment - there’s a distinctly Kon-shaped hole in the fist-shaped crater. It looks like something out of a cartoon.

“What -” he coughs a little as the words catch in his dry throat, “what’s goin’ on?”

Cassie gestures over her shoulder. “See for yourself.”

The battle is still going on, but by the looks of it, it’ll be over soon. Wonder Woman and Superman are handling the giant robot as Green Lantern finishes off the last of the mini-bots. The ease they’re handling it with is lowkey embarrassing. Highkey embarrassing. Mortifying.

Maybe Kon is more out of practice than he thought.

“How’re Tim and Bart, they good?” Even as he says this, Kon’s heart twists as he remembers the scream he heard. “Wait - Bart, oh shit, is he hurt?”

Cassie’s face pinches. “A bot got a lucky hit in - Flash already took him to the Tower.”

Kon’s heart stutters, and he feels like he might fall over. One of his friends got hurt - bad enough that he had to be evacuated by the Flash. Why didn’t….Kon should’ve been paying more attention, should’ve made sure nothing bad happened to him.

“Hey,” Cassie murmurs, squeezing his shoulder. “Bart is strong. It wasn’t even that bad - he’ll bounce back, no problem.” She squeezes his shoulder again. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

Kon nods, though it’s a hollow motion. Yeah, of course. He knows that. Totally. It’s not like he has super strength and super speed and shit.

“Tim?” He asks further, wincing at how small his voice is. If Cassie says anything other than ‘ _He’s okay_ ,’ Kon might actually collapse.

“Tim...isn’t hurt?”

“Please don’t say that like a question.”

“Sorry.” Cassie winces and glances over her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s...spacing, I think.”

“You _think?_ ” Kon is already moving towards the sound of Tim’s heartbeat - still steady, maybe a touch lethargic. Not technically a bad thing, but not good, either.

“I don’t really know, I think he’s...what’s the word...disassociating?”

Kon’s heart constricts at the word. Tim had explained the term to him after a particularly nasty mission where they dealt with an unharmed and conscious yet unresponsive civilian. It’s not a good thing, apparently, nor is it pleasant. Hopefully Cassie is wrong.

Kon steps around a boulder to see Tim sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, slumped like a doll with cut strings. He’s so still that it’s almost like he’s…

“You can go ahead to make sure Bart is okay, I’ll take care of him,” Kon tells Cassie. He doesn’t respond to her asking if he’s sure, and a second later there’s a whoosh as she takes off.

Tim doesn’t react as Kon kneels in front of him. He’s absolutely covered in robot oil and grime - blood shines on his black gloves. It might be Bart’s. The thought makes Kon queasy.

“Hey, Tim,” Kon says as gently as he can, “you here with me?”

No response. Not so much as a nod. The only sign that Tim is alive is the rise and fall of his chest.

Kon sighs, a resigned, sad sound that echoes in his chest. “That’s okay, buddy. It’s been a rough day, huh?”

He checks Tim for injuries, and finds none besides some minor cuts on his arms where robots got lucky grazes in. Thank fuck that’s all there is - the last thing Kon wants for Tim is to be in pain on top of this. He flicks back the white lenses of Tim’s cowl to see unfocused, glazed eyes that stare straight through the ground. Tim blinks sluggishly.

Oh man, Tim...Kon’s heart tries to implode just looking at him. Tim should never look so lifeless. He’s like ocean waves, always active, always doing something, always calm or playful or raging. Not blank, like a still, glassy pond.

“C’mon, let's get you home.” Kon carefully gathers him into his arms and takes off, trying not to think about how limp Tim is. He nods to Superman as he flies past - they just finished defeating the robot.

There is no change in Tim’s awareness by the time Kon touches down in the tower. He carries him through until they reach the bedroom hall, at which point he pauses.

Tim’s room, or Kon’s? Tim is in no shape to open his door - it has a weirdly elaborate lock that can only be the product of bat-paranoia. The medbay might be good...but it must be busy with Bart, and they should probably get Tim cleaned up and make sure those cuts get disinfected. Mind made up, Kon goes to his own room. He closes his door behind them and brings Tim into the bathroom. He sets Tim down, and thankfully his friend doesn’t topple over. Kon peels back Tim’s cowl and removes it, along with his cape and weird-ass bandoliers. They go in the laundry basket, along with Kon’s own gloves. His sunglasses are folded neatly on the sink.

At the sight of Tim’s uncovered face Kon can’t help a soft, “Oh, Tim…” His hair is stringy with sweat, clinging to his face and neck, and the bags under his eyes are too dark to be healthy. When did he last sleep? Shower?

Kon forces himself to turn away and hesitates before turning the shower on. Tim doesn’t seem in it enough to take a shower, so maybe a bath would be better. Yeah, a long soak in warm water feels right.

“Do you think you can handle a bath?” Kon asks him, though he doesn’t expect an answer at this point. He tugs on the cuffs of his sleeves, glancing between the bathtub and Tim. It’s fine, this is fine, Kon will just… help. No biggie. Kon kneels by the bathtub to fiddle with the water knobs. Steam is already starting to fog up the mirror by the time he finds the right temperature.

Hm… Kon is more of a shower guy, so he doesn’t have much in the way of bath stuff. The spare supply closet might yield something useful - Kon wonders if Bart has bubble bath. Oh, who is he kidding, of course Bart has bubble bath. It’s right up his alley, and it might be childish, but maybe Tim needs that right now.

Kon pauses on his way out to brush Tim’s bangs out of his face. “Go ahead and get undressed and climb in, okay bud?” Still no sign that his words have been heard, but hopefully they got through to wherever Tim is right now.

A quick trip to Bart’s room proves his theory. Bart does indeed have bubble bath, and it’s blueberry scented, which is perfect - Tim _loves_ blueberries. On his way back he stops by the supply closet to get a bath sponge and a first aid kit.

Kon was hoping Tim would be present enough to get himself undressed, but upon walking back into the bathroom, Kon sees him exactly where he left him, if a little more hunched over. Kon frowns and worries his bottom lip between his teeth as he puts the stuff down next to the bathtub and plugs the drain. A generous amount of bubble solution is poured into the steaming water, and immediately a mound of blue-tinged bubbles foam out. Kon is delighted to find out they really are blueberry scented. As the water rises, he turns back to his friend and takes a calming breath.

No big deal. Just… undress him quickly and get him in the water, easy peasy. Man, this is not the kind of situation Kon would like to undress Tim in - nope, stop, wrong time for jokes. Even if it lowkey (highkey) isn’t a joke.

Shoving his intrusive thoughts deep into the back of his mind, he sighs.

“Alrighty, Tim,” Kon mutters, approaching him. This might be the most insanely embarrassing moment of his life, but Kon will push through it and keep his thoughts squeaky fucking clean for Tim. Anything for Tim.

The gloves come off first, and the tough material is so saturated with blood that Tim’s hands are crusted with a rust color underneath. Kon blanches as he tosses the gloves in the laundry basket - he’ll _really_ need to check on Bart after this. Kon decidedly does _not_ blush as he removes Tim’s belt and folds it on the sink. He turns around to see Tim sluggishly moving to remove his boots, and although his hands fumble blankly at the laces, Kon can’t help a tiny smile. Hopefully that means Tim is coming back into himself, if only a little.

“Lemme help with that,” Kon says softly, helping Tim get his boots off to set them by the basket. All that’s left is to help Tim struggle out of his bodysuit - how the hell do they even get these _on?!_ \- Kon tosses it aside before reaching to help Tim into the bath as quickly as he can, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he does so (has that mold spot always been there?) Just guide him into the overflowing bath—oh.

 _Shit_. Kon lunges to turn the water off and sighs in relief. He immediately tenses up again, though, when he glances over at Tim and freezes at what he sees.

Scars.

So. Many. Scars.

Too many, way too many for the short year that Kon was...gone. Some of them are still pale, recently healed. Nearly all of the new ones look like they should’ve been _fatal_.

From the jagged, violent slash that runs between his shoulder blades to the thin, precise line that runs up from his naval, they all tell painful stories of a time where Kon wasn’t there.

Tim curls in on himself and shivers, jolting Kon back into reality. Right. Bath. That takes prevalence right now, but later Kon is definitely going to ask Tim what in the fresh hell he’s been doing - once he’s in the right headspace, of course.

Kon tries not to think about how the bare skin of Tim’s arms and side feels under his hands as he helps his friend - _friend_ , Kon - into the bath. Tim lets out the tiniest of sighs as he sinks into the bubble coated water, letting his head tilt back to rest against the edge. Maybe Kon went a little overboard with the bubbles, as they’re practically spilling over the edge of the tub, but it had just been so entertaining watching them foam up. And honestly, Tim looks kinda cute submerged in them.

“Feelin’ better yet?” Kon asks as he shrugs his jacket off, lovingly tosses it in the general direction of the sink, and floats by tub with crossed legs. No reply, of course, but Tim sighs again and lets his eyelids slide closed. Kon’s heart swells at the little motion, and he just... _god_ , Tim is cute. He lathers up the sponge with soap and lifts Tim’s arm to start the process of getting the dried blood and oil off of his friend. He murmurs an apology every time the sponge passes over a cut.

This is… strangely therapeutic, if Kon is honest with himself, and way less awkward than he thought it would be. It’s insanely domestic, as well, and it makes him smile as he gently scrubs Tim’s hand clean of blood. The quiet splashes of the sponge dipping into the water and the soft drag of the material against skin is soothing, in its own way, like both are whispers that he and Tim are safe here, together, that nothing bad can reach them. They’re in their own bubble of calm.

If only this could be happening in a different situation. A happier one.

Kon just… he _hates_ this. How Tim just _checked out_ of reality for whatever reason, and now it’s like his soul has left his body and all that’s left is a husk. A living, breathing husk, thank fuck, but an empty shell nontheless. This has never happened before, not when things were still good and bright and they were invincible kids that couldn’t die. But something changed, in that year Kon wasn’t here. Wasn’t anywhere. Maybe it was multiple somethings that have to do with the new scars, but whatever it was severely damaged Kon’s best friend, the person he loves.

Overall, Tim is different. Before everything went to shit, it was still fairly easy to make Tim smile. He’d take breaks, too, and he’d allow himself to have fun when he could get away from his busy schedule. He still had scars, Kon had seen them during training, but they were few in number and small in size. Not a patchwork of near-losses marring his skin like some fucked-up map of death. And now, coaxing a genuine smile from Tim is like pulling teeth. Getting him to take a break is even harder. It’s a miracle he hasn’t run himself into the ground yet - or maybe he has, maybe that’s what this dissociative episode means.

All Kon knows is that he was gone during the worst possible year. He isn’t privy to the specifics - Tim is tight lipped and adamantly refuses to open up, which is a punch to Kon’s gut. They could talk about anything with each other, before. Now...all Tim said is that there were a lot of funerals he had to attend. Kon can tell that it’s more than that, there’s more Tim isn’t telling him, and that each funeral and unsaid event chipped away at him little by little.

Kon hopes that there’s enough of Tim left to heal.

The change from the optimistic, driven Robin who Kon knew to the jagged, broken Red Robin sitting in front of him is jarring, to say the least. But sitting here, gently scrubbing oil and dirt from Tim’s face, Kon knows for certain that he doesn’t love him any less for it. He’ll be here for his best friend in whatever form he needs—through whatever bad times might still lay ahead, and whatever good times are sure to come.

Kon situates himself behind Tim to work shampoo into his dark hair, and he presses a feather light kiss to his forehead, letting his lips linger on warm, damp skin. He wills Tim to understand that he is here, he’s _here_ and he’ll never leave again.

A long soak in the bath will do the rest of the work, Kon decides once he finishes washing Tim down to his ribs. Anything lower will probably make his head implode, so best not to push it. Leaving Tim to...marinate...or something...Kon sets about taking a shower for himself. He’s covered in dirt and he’s still in his grimy costume, and frankly he feels absolutely fucking disgusting. Eternally grateful that the bathtub and shower are separate entities, Kon grabs a hoodie and sweats, setting them on the sink before stripping and hopping in the shower.

Hot water cascades over the back of his neck, and Kon sighs as the pressure unravels one of the knots that formed in his shoulders. That bot really did a number on him. He washes up quickly, not wanting to leave Tim in the tub for too long - he keeps an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t...like...slip under the water - and also to minimize the amount of time that he and Tim are both in the same room with zero clothes on. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

The fresh clothes are heaven on earth when Kon slips into them, and he takes a moment to relish in the soft fabric before going back to Tim. Luckily, Tim didn’t drown in the ten seconds Kon was dressing. Always a plus. All that’s left is to bandage those little cuts - bandage might be a strong word, and the tiny injuries don’t even technically need bandaging, but Kon has these silly, brightly colored bandaids that make him snort. Hopefully Tim will get a kick out of them, too.

Kon grabs a towel out of his fresh laundry pile and comes back to the bathroom to find Tim shakily getting out of the tub. He wraps the towel around his friend’s waist and helps him sit on the bathtub’s edge. Kon makes quick work of pressing bandaids over the cuts. At some point Tim leaned forward until his forehead rests on Kon’s collar, and although his gaze is still unfocused, his breathing is a little deeper. Kon hadn’t even noticed how shallow it was before, like Tim was just taking in enough air to keep living. It isn’t a pleasant thought. Kon grabs a hand towel off of the sink with his TTK to start drying Tim off, rubbing it over his back in what Kon hopes are soothing motions. Once Tim is sufficiently dry enough to be comfortable in clothes, Kon moves away, burying his reluctance. He has to steady Tim as he slumps without support.

“There ya go, lemme get you some clothes, yeah?” Kon says. He only steps out of the room once he’s sure Tim isn’t going to fall over. A quick dig through the clean laundry in the corner of Kon’s room results in a black and red superman tee and a pair of sweats with an adjustable drawstring.

Tim is definitely more aware - he actually takes the clothes Kon hands him and dresses while Kon drains the tub and returns the supplies he borrowed to their rightful places. On his way back, Kon pauses. He _really_ wants to check on Bart. It would put his mind at ease, and it would be good to have an update for Tim once he’s fully aware, and he really really _really_ wants to make sure his friend is okay.

At least Bart’s heartbeat is as steady as ever when Kon tunes in on his way over to the medbay - thrumming fast enough that it’d kill a normal person, but perfect for a speedster. Kon pauses in the medbay entrance and smiles at what he sees.

The three people in the room are fast asleep. Bart is on a cot with white bandages wrapped around his torso and minimal wires attached to him. Great— that means it was nothing serious. Well, maybe it was, but speedsters are quick in everything they do, even healing. Cassie is curled up on the cot next to him, holding one hand while the Flash - asleep in a bedside chair - holds the other. It’s a sweet scene that Kon gazes at for a minute longer than necessary.

Satisfied that his friend is alive and well, Kon floats back to his room. Upon opening the door, he finds Tim passed the fuck out on his bed, curled up like a cat and blissfully relaxed—and not in the creepy ‘Tim isn’t home right now, can I take a message?’ kind of way he had been. Peaceful. Content. Fucking adorable in Kon’s clothes.

Kon floats over him for a moment, drinking in his peaceful features and enjoying the natural stillness. He’d do anything to keep Tim in this soft moment where he can let go of whatever nightmares plague him, in the waking world or in sleep. It’s a little slice of heaven, and Kon is already committing the moment to memory. He reaches down and brushes his fingers once through Tim’s damp hair, warmed by the sunlight streaming through the curtains.

It’s still daytime, but honestly? Kon could go for a nap right now, too. Relaxing in bed next to Tim is just what he needs, and the sunlight promises a nice recharge after the taxing robot fight. He lowers himself onto the bed - careful not to jostle Tim - and reclines against the pile of fluffy pillows shoved up against the headboard.

The sunlight thrums warmth through Kon’s veins, his friends are fine (or will be), and that’s all he can ask for right now. He allows himself to drape an arm over Tim, and to his surprise, his friend shifts towards him to bury his face in Kon’s side. One hand clings to the fabric of Kon’s hoodie like a lifeline.

Can Tim get any fucking cuter? Probably. Kon grins and chances another kiss to Tim’s hair, pausing to breathe in the scent of rustic shampoo and blueberry wash. It’s an odd mix, but it works.

If Kon could choose a moment to stay locked in, this would definitely be a pretty high contender.. Seeing Tim with his walls down after months of struggling to re-familiarize himself with his best friend is more than amazing. Kon just wishes it didn’t take a dissociative episode to prompt this.

When Tim wakes up, he might get upset and try to distance himself again, but Kon will be ready to combat that with reassurances and unwavering support. Someday they’ll get back to the point they were at before. It might be a long, hard path that’s stained with tears and blood, but it’ll be worth it. It’s always worth it for Tim.

But that’s not now.

Right here, in this moment, Kon is content to hold Tim close and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me @ [Batshit-Birds](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batshit-birds) on Tumblr


End file.
